Indefensible
by elfluvr
Summary: COMPLETE. She always leaves him with something to think about. And then it's his turn. – Filler scenes and Spoilers for Want.
1. Chapter 1

Title: **Indefensible**

Author: elfluvr

Summary: She always leaves him with something to think about. And then it's his turn. – Filler scenes (and Spoilers) for _Want_. Chapter 1 of 2.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em …no money … thanks Dick Wolf … blah, blah, blah.

Archive: Anywhere else, just ask

Feedback: Please! It's always welcome – constructive feedback as well as encouragement.

-------------------------------------------------------

A/N – WARNING: Major Spoilers for _Want_. And if you haven't seen that particular show, this story may not make much sense. Been done before, but here's my version.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Indefensible **– Chapter 1

"Of all the people to go to bat for."

"I know, I know. I-It's not the popular choice."

"I'll say."

-----------------------------------------------------------

It was a good five minutes before Bobby Goren could bring himself to get up from the table. He sat there absently running his fingers over the stitching on the fine but worn leather of his notebook as he mulled over what just happened.

His partner didn't see his side of it – he could accept that. It wasn't as though Alex Eames always agreed with him, but she always presented a united front to others. This time had been no different. She'd kept her silence as long as Carver and Deakins were in the conference room. But once they were gone, she'd made it perfectly clear just how much she disagreed with him and his lonely defense of John Tagman.

Then she'd walked out on him.

Granted, it was only as far as her desk in the squad room, but her intent and the impact it had were far more meaningful than the distance. Eames had felt the need to physically separate herself from him – deserting him rather than debating him. Bobby wasn't sure what to make of it. All he knew was he felt a tight twist somewhere in his chest at the thought of her leaving him.

When he did finally approach their desks, Eames kept her head bowed over her paperwork, refusing to even look at him. Goren put his notebook on his desk, walked to the squad's coffee room, and returned with two cups in hand – black for him, cream and a disgusting amount of sugar for her. He placed the small peace offering on her desk, sat in his chair across from her and waited for the soft smile of thanks she usually gave him.

This time it never came. When she finally raised her eyes he saw that she wasn't pleased, as he'd hoped. Nor was she reproachful, as he might have expected. She looked bewildered … betrayed. _Oh, this was so much worse._

"I don't know how you can defend him," Eames' voice was low, aware that they were not alone in the squad room.

"Eames," Goren kept his voice equally low, "murder in the first degree involves a deliberate, premeditated design to cause the death of a person." This was the same argument he'd offered Carver while they were all in the conference room. She'd looked mutinous then, and it didn't appear anything had changed.

Then maybe because he was still stinging from her desertion, or maybe to erase her look of betrayal, Goren took it one step further. "You shouldn't have to look it up." _Okay, Bobby. Maybe that went too far._

Her eyes narrowed as she took in his sharp rebuke. "And what about what these girls went through?" Eames wasn't shouting, but apparently she no longer cared who heard them. "What about their families? You saw Amanda's mother. It's bad enough her daughter was killed, but then to find out how … and why. Now she'll learn that he …" she paused. He could see the muscles of her throat working as she tried to suppress the urge to gag. "What he did with her calf muscle …" her voice was tight. "You can't justify that to me, Bobby."

Goren knew that part had been hard for her to hear, and for Carver and Deakins. Any understanding they may have tried to afford Tagman went out the door with that final, grisly revelation.

"I'm not justifying it … I'm qualifying it. He didn't intend to kill anyone," Goren gestured with his left hand to emphasize that last point. "It's not. Murder. One." The words were punctuated by jabbing his index finger against his desk.

A flush bloomed across her cheeks, and she blew out a breath before continuing. "What if it had been someone you know?" her voice rose – Eames closed her eyes and sighed deeply in an effort to control her temper. When her golden brown eyes again met his, she was calm but no less resolved. "What if it was me lying in that hospital bed … not knowing my own name? What if I stopped knowing who you are? What if there was no hope of me ever recovering from that?"

Bobby blinked in surprise at the unexpected direction her argument had taken. _Not fair, Eames. You know better than to personalize these things._ He frowned at the image her words painted for him.

Seeing his reaction, Eames' expression softened and when she continued, her voice was gentle. "Where would your sympathies be then, Bobby?" She sat there studying him, evaluating the impact of her words. "Would you still want the death penalty off the table?"

His partner. Based on appearance, anyone would describe her as petite, almost to the point of delicate. Physically, he definitely had the advantage. But Alex had more strength than what was apparent at first glance. One of those strengths was her gift of words – be they witty, sarcastic comments, or thought-provoking observations. If he'd forgotten how well Alex could use words to bring him down, she'd just reminded him.

He didn't really think she was waiting for an answer. Good thing, too, because he didn't know what to say.

"Think about it." With that, she got up from her desk and walked out on him, again. This time she took her purse and coat, and headed toward the elevators.

Goren quickly turned to glance around the squad room, self-conscious about who might have overheard the unusual conflict between him and Eames. All the other detectives had their heads down, intently studying whatever was on their desk tops. Every last one of them. Which told Bobby that every last one of them had heard.

He sighed and ran his hand through the graying curls of his hair before rubbing at the back of his neck. 'Think about it,' he heard her voice in his head.

_Alex. Lying in a hospital bed. Hole drilled in her skull. Scalding water poured on her brain. Vegetative. No more witty remarks. No more soft smiles. Never again recognizing him._ He didn't want to think about it.

_TBC …_


	2. Chapter 2

**Indefensible **– Chapter 2

Alex walked in the front door of the familiar bar – a place she knew Bobby frequented. As her eyes and ears adjusted to the dim lighting and harsh sounds of numerous conversations competing to be heard, she tried to pick out the one person she hoped to find. He wasn't hard to spot, sitting at the far end of the bar – alone. And whether because of his daunting size or his current demeanor, he seemed to have a pocket of isolation encircling him.

Picking her way through the crowd, Alex felt a sudden pang of anxiety. _Anxiety, hell … it's fear_. He'd obviously made everyone else in the bar feel unwelcome that night. She feared the same treatment.

"Hey," Bobby greeted her without looking up from his beer. She'd made it all the way to his elbow before he acknowledged her, but Alex had a feeling he'd known she was there from the moment she walked in the door.

"Hi." She gestured to the empty stool next to him, "Mind if I …?" He shook his head, still engrossed by the mug of beer sitting on the bar.

Alex slid onto the stool, swept her hair behind her ears and fidgeted nervously.

Bobby was a study on how to be secluded while sitting in the midst of a crowd. She noticed he'd been home before venturing out to his neighborhood bar. He'd changed clothes into a pair of jeans and a dove gray sweater with the sleeves pushed up toward his elbows. He looked good. If it weren't for the fact that he so clearly wanted to be left alone, she was sure the stool next to his would not have been empty.

Her partner still hadn't looked at her, choosing instead to trace the runnels of condensation on the outside of his mug. Without seeing his eyes, Alex had no hope of knowing what was running around inside that brilliant, complex mind of his. Was he angry? Hurt? Disappointed? _Please don't let him be disappointed … or angry … and certainly not hurt!_

"Bobby …" she hesitated, not sure how to start.

The bartender chose that moment to toss a coaster in front of her. "What can I get for ya?"

"Uh … gin and tonic. Lemon instead of lime?"

"You got it," the bartender lightly slapped the bar and gave her a smile. "You okay, Bobby?"

"Yeah, I'm good, Joe. Thanks."

Alex waited for Joe to leave then turned to the sullen man sitting next to her. "Look, I'm sorry I got so mad at you in the squad room," she blurted out in a rush. "They didn't need to hear all that." Bobby finally angled his eyes toward her and she felt a wave of relief. There was no anger or resentment in those brown depths, only his usual friendly regard.

"But I did?" Bobby swiveled his bar stool and gave her his full attention.

She drew in a shaky breath. "This has been a tough one, Bobby." Alex avoided the question hanging in the air. The entire case had been emotionally draining. And with one horror following closely on the heels of another, she'd found it hard to sleep at night. The images in her head when she closed her eyes were not something she wanted following her into her dreams. Alex felt exhausted. She no longer had the energy, or the desire, to do battle with Bobby Goren.

His dark brown eyes considered her intently, and Alex couldn't suppress a small shiver as she felt his knee press against hers in the tight space under the bar. She saw in his eyes that it didn't go unnoticed.

"Gruesome," he quietly agreed with her assessment of the case. Turning back to the bar, he took a long draught of his beer – apparently content to let the question, and her reaction to his touch, go unacknowledged.

Just as Alex's mind registered how cold her knee was, Joe returned with her gin and tonic. She sat quietly, swirling her drink with the plastic stirrer while considering where to go from here. A companionable silence grew between them as they sipped their drinks, each seemingly content just to have the other near.

"Did you ever think maybe that's why we're such a good team?" Alex finally asked. Bobby looked at her and cocked his head in question. "I mean … I always see things from the victim's side – sympathize with them." His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Not that you don't!" she quickly added, wanting to maintain their tenuous truce.

Bobby turned his stool back to face her, his knee again warming hers, and slouched more comfortably into the back of his chair. Resting one elbow on the bar and grasping the mug by its rim, he tipped the beer to his mouth and waited for her to elaborate. His dark eyes were hooded, and his expression clearly challenged her to enlighten him. With his relaxed pose and sleepy eyes, Alex just thought he looked sexy.

"Ah …" Alex opened her mouth and then panicked. Distracted by Bobby's knee, she couldn't remember what they were talking about and desperately cast about in her mind to recall what it was she was trying to explain to him. _Oh yeah … victims … sympathy._

Thankfully her mind snagged on a recent example. "It's like what you did with Claire … in the hospital. Holding her hand while you tried to talk to her …" her voice softened as she again saw how Bobby had walked without hesitation to Claire's bedside and took up her small hand in both of his. He'd chafed her fingers and Alex had thought that more than giving warmth, he'd been trying to use touch to establish a connection with her. What she remembered most was the tender look in his eyes for this unknown woman he'd never met before. "I know that wasn't just some interrogation 'trick' as Carver would call it. That was you … caring about what happened to her."

And there it was – that tender look. This time directed at Alex. She loved that look. A person could get lost in it … just stay right here, safe and warm …

A sudden burst of laughter from the group behind them broke the spell and Alex forced her eyes away from his to take a sip of her drink. Flustered, she tried to get her mind back on track and away from thoughts of being warm with Bobby.

Staring into her glass, she watched the ice dance as she played idly with the stirrer and chose her next words. "I always seem to stay firmly on the side of the victim, while you …" she turned back to him, "you go off and do that thing you do … where you get inside the perp's head. You try to understand them … their motivations. You want to think like them … feel what they feel," the words tumbled out and Alex had to stop to take a breath. "I just think this time you've gone too far over that edge."

"Yeah … well … I don't think you're alone on that," he said softly.

"I worry about you," Alex admitted.

"Don't," Bobby shook his head. "I have enough things in this reality to keep me coming back," he smiled softly at her.

She had to get out of there. This man was having a peculiar affect on her tonight, spawning thoughts she had no business considering. The last thing she needed to do was get a couple more drinks in her and start confessing her soul.

"I gotta go," Alex reluctantly left his knee behind and slid off the bar stool. "Thanks for the drink," she smirked at leaving him stuck with the tab, even though she knew he really didn't mind.

"Eames," he called her back.

"Yeah?" she re-traced the two steps she'd already taken and stood in front of him.

"If it was you … in that hospital bed," he paused and Alex saw a steely resolve lock in place behind his eyes. "I would want to kill him with my own hands."

Alex froze. In fact, for a dizzying moment the entire world froze. Everything except her heart – it did a frantic flip in her chest and then started racing. Her breath left her in a sigh. Alex realized this was something she'd wanted for a long time – some kind of admission that she was important to him. She didn't fully understand why it mattered so much to her – she thought maybe the need had started when she'd been on maternity leave. Alex had felt … replaceable. And although she knew Bobby had been glad to have her back, he'd never said as much. Not really.

Her parting questions earlier that day were a reflection of her need to know he cared. And with that uncanny ability Bobby had for understanding people and their motivations, he'd figured it out. Maybe that was what he'd found so fascinating in the depths of his beer – the answer to this particular puzzle.

And then because in true Bobby fashion he couldn't let it go, "That still doesn't make what he did murder one."

That brought her heart thudding back to reality.

Alex looked down at the floor and had to bite her tongue to hold back a sharp retort. She really did not want to fight about this any more. Barely disguising her exasperation, she tossed her head to swing her hair out of her eyes and looked back at Bobby. "Can we just agree to disagree? I'm tired of fighting about this. We pick up Tagman in the morning, and then Carver's gonna do what Carver's gonna do," she cocked her head and waited for his answer.

"Yeah … we can do that," Bobby agreed smoothly.

She narrowed her eyes and studied him for a moment. Something in his tone sounded triumphant – like he'd just won something. He stared back at her innocently. Whatever it was he thought he'd achieved, she wasn't about to find out tonight.

"Come on, Bobby … you need to go home," Alex tugged on his elbow. "Sitting in a bar thinking too hard on this will drive you crazy."

"Some people think I'm already there."

"Yeah, well not this person. Let's go."

_End_


End file.
